


Winter In Dorne

by Wolfboulder



Series: Ned Stark Deserved Better [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Elia Martell Deserved Better, Elia Martell Lives, F/M, Jon Snow is a Stark, Minor Jon Snow/Rhaenys Targaryen, Ned Stark Deserved Better, Rhaenys Targaryen Lives, switching POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 00:26:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15674319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfboulder/pseuds/Wolfboulder
Summary: A look into a life where our favorite honorable man, Ned Stark is married to Elia Martell after the Sack Of King's Landing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Well here’s another one. I stumbled across this pairing when I first got into GoT/ASOIF fanfictions and I figured since I’m doing these other pairings, might as well try to do this one justice.  
> This story will change POV a few times and I hope it’s clear enough for you to easily follow along.  
> Let’s see how it goes.  
> Disclaimer: I do not own GoT/ASOIF (Game of Thrones/A Song Of Ice and Fire) or any of its characters, I’m just writing my story in their world.

* * *

 

Ned Stark was appalled by the actions of the Lannister’s in King’s Landing. Screams filled the air as banners carrying the Lion marched throughout the city. When the remainder of the rebel’s army marched upon the city to find it’s gates shut and with Lannister banners being flown, Ned worried all of this was for naught, but when the gates opened, and the screams started Ned realized once more there is no honor in war.

 

The only redeemable act of the sac was when Ned, the Kingslayer Jaime Lannister, and Howland Reed saved Elia Martell and her daughter from Tywin Lannister’s mad dog Gregor Clegane. The three men fought as the situation demanded, with Ned Stark pulling Elia and Rhaenys from the room as Jaime Lannister, sword prodigy that he was, proved why he was the youngest Kingsguard in the history of Westeros.

 

Within the small confines of the room The Mountain couldn’t use his size to his advantage and Jaime would score numerous hits with his sword flashing in and out. Howland reed used his four-pronged spear to pierce through the plate the giant of a man wore. A host of North men protected Elia and her daughter as Ned returned to the fight.  The mountain of a man fell with the prongs of Howland’s spear in his throat, with Jaime’s sword in his chest, after Ned lopped off his sword arm.

 

* * *

 

When Ned returned to King’s Landing with a bastard in his arms and the bones of his sister, a letter awaited him with news of his brother’s wife having a son.

 

Ned had no time to celebrate for his brother though. No Ned didn’t have time, for Robert was calling for the death of Elia Martell and her daughter. Ned handed the child off to the wet nurse the Dayne’s had gifted him for the returning of Dawn.

 

Robert was red faced when Ned stormed into the throne room. Northmen were surrounding Elia and surrounding them was the Kingsguard.

 

“What in the seven Hells is going on Robert?”  Ned had his hand on his sword as his eyes hardened and his voice turned as cold as ice.

 

Robert’s hand was wrapped around the handle of his war hammer, and Ned while angered, eyed his friend warily.

 

“The dragon’s whore will die!” Robert’s voice boomed off the walls surrounding them.

 

“No Robert, they are innocent. I can not let more innocent blood be spilt.” Ned didn’t raise his voice as Robert had, no his voice grew colder and all in the room felt the chill rolling off him.

 

“They took Lyanna. My betrothed. Your sister and you would defend them?”

 

“I would defend any innocent. Robert. They didn’t give the order to kill my father nor, did they kidnap Lyanna, and yet you would step over their bodies when the throne is already yours? Their deaths will not bring her back.”

 

Ned’s words seemed to effect Robert, and his voice boomed once more as he cursed at Ned with his full fury. Yet, Robert didn’t call for their heads once more after his anger was directed toward Ned.

 

The child Ned brought with him, who he called Jon after the man who he thought of as a father. Robert did two things that shook Ned’s world. The first was to legitimize Jon as a Stark, something Ned hadn’t thought of doing. The second was even more shocking.

 

“Since you care for the whore so much, you and she shall marry, and as your Brother is Lord Paramount of the North, you’ll be sent to Dorne with her.” Were the words Robert yelled at him.

 

They were the words that would change Eddard Starks life.

 

* * *

 

There were two weddings, and Benjen was sent as a representative of the North, as Brandon swore to never ride South unless it was to collect his brothers’ bones.

 

Neither wedding was befitting of a woman of Elia’s status and for that Ned profusely apologized. Elia merely thanked him for his concern, yet Ned could see the sadness in her eyes, the death of her husband and son still heavy on her mind.

 

They traveled to Dorne by sea, and Ned thought for sure he would die in the heat when they finally reached their destination of Sunspear. Still he did his best to offer comfort to Elia, his wife when he could.

 

* * *

 

Though he sweat a lot, even after he switched to a considerably more modest form of Dornish clothing, Ned didn’t die under Dorne’s sun like he thought he would.

 

Oberyn Martell was an oddity for Ned, the man reminded him so much of his older brother, yet they were different all the same.

 

Both having absolutely no shame in displaying their bodies before women. Evident by Oberyn’s many daughters, Ned though kept his thoughts to himself, no need to anger the residents of his new home.

 

Speaking of his new home, his thoughts shifted toward his wife. The firs time he saw her smile was when her eyes settled on the high tower of Sunspear. He thought it made her beauty magnify tenfold.

 

Ned liked the Water Gardens the best, reminding him of the glass garden in Winterfell with its uniqueness. The first time Elia smile at Ned was when he dumped a bucket of water over her head as she lounged in one of their outdoor chairs. A strange way to break the tension between them for sure, but it worked, and slowly they would grow closer.

 

* * *

 

Her Northern husband was an odd man, of that Elia was certain. He was somber faced and gruff, yet he would do things that would make her smile, and the smile seemed to be what he wanted to see. She didn’t have much to smile about in her mind, her baby boy having been crushed by the monster her husband helped slay.

 

Yet the first time she told Ned, as he liked to be called, he merely told her she had a daughter who couldn’t understand why her mother wasn’t spending time with her.

 

It was then she took greater interest in her husband. The man would often be found playing with his son and her own daughter, treating her little Rhaenys as if she was his own. She found the smiles she gave him becoming less forced. The smile he gave her when she first joined him in playing with the children made her flush in a way she hadn’t since before Harrenhal.

 

She realized soon after that incident, that Ned had suffered almost as much as she had since the tourney. Where she lost a husband and son, he lost a father and sister. It was with this realization that she first invited him to dine with him, and it soon became a nightly occurrence for the two of them to eat with one another, talking of things both heavy and light. Elia soon found Ned more odd, as he held strong to beliefs most scoffed at.

 

Maybe there was more to her new husband than she had first thought.

 

* * *

 

Elia had a cleverness to her that had Ned’s head spinning when she unleashed it on him, and though her body was said to be frail Ned found she had an inner strength that matched that of his late sister Lyanna. He liked to think they could have been kindred spirits if life had been kinder.

 

Lyanna was a sore subject for them both, though it was for different reason entirely. For Elia, it was the child her former husband had shamed her for. For Ned it was a name that remained him of death, war, and the loss of his sister. They both had a quiet agreement to leave the subject alone until the time it would need to be talked about.

 

Ned’s favorite thing about Dornish culture had to be their fruit, he had never had a blood orange before coming there. The fact that Elia always made sure he had one when they dined in the evening only made him more curious about the woman who he had been married to.

 

The first night they shared the same bed, was after a name day of Princess Arianne Martell, where Dornish Red wine flowed freely in celebration. Ned usually so moderate in his ways, was prodded into a drinking game against Elia brother Oberyn, which Ned had won much to the surprise of the Dornish surrounding them.

 

Elia had drunk deep into her cups as well, and when she pulled Ned into her chambers he offered no resistance to the dark-haired beauty that was his wife.

 

* * *

 

The North and Dorne had at least one thing in common, they were both considered outsiders within Westeros. Both being look at with scorn for their strange ways.

 

When the news of Elia being pregnant broke some months after their first coupling, Ned received a Weirwood sapling courtesy of Brandon as a gift celebrating the occasion. With Doran’s permission Ned attempted to plant the sapling in a far corner of the Water Gardens where damp soil and shade were the most abundant. Ned would spend long hours of his days tending to the small thing.

 

Elia would often join him, stating she needed to do something when he complained. Ned eventually relented under her fierce dark eyes, though he kept a close eye on her, the consequences of her other births forefront on his mind.

 

When the small sapling took root under their attentive hands, Ned found himself sad he would no longer have something he and his wife could share. As Elia pregnancy progressed, Ned oft found himself sharpening his sword in front of the weirwood praying for not only the child but the woman who was his wife. It was during one such instance that he vowed to be a true husband to the woman who in most things was still a stranger.

 

* * *

 

Elia noticed a shift in Eddard Stark after the strange tree took root within the Water Gardens. He had taken a stronger interest in her, not as a tool to use, but as a person. Elia wasn’t sure how to deal with it.

 

Her stranger man of a husband was attentive, often treating her as if she were an invalid, something she had put a stop to with a firm glare and stern words. She found he looked, surprisingly, adorable when his face flushed as he stammered over apologizes. It was time like that she realized he was he junior by quite a few years. Yet it was moments like that, where his face flushed, or he would grace her with one of his rare smiles that she thought he looked handsome, as if years were shaved from his face.

 

When their child first kicked within her womb, Elia was quick to call for Ned, and when he felt the child growing within her kick his hand, he lifted her in his strong arms and spun her till they staggered dizzy. Elia found herself liking this more cheerful side of her somber husband.

 

* * *

 

A daughter was born to the pair, and Ned sat at the sick Elia’s bed all throughout, even as she cursed him to the Seven Hells and back. Even when his bones hurt from her dainty hand squeezing it. It was all worth it as an olive-skinned gray eyes daughter was placed into their arms.

 

Her name would be Arya Nymeria Stark.

 

While their separate children fawned over their newest sibling, Ned’s heart pounded as his wife’s eyes slowly started to become less lively. He yelled for anyone who would listen to come and help.

 

Ned begged her to stay with him, he had only just gotten to know her as a wife and he was terrified of her leaving him.

 

Elia gave him a sad smile before her eyes closed and his heart felt like it was ripped from his chest.

 

* * *

 

Ned Stark, along with his three children stood somber faced. Ned held Arya to his chest as Rhaenys and Jon clung to his legs, tears in their small eyes. Ned’s eyes were hard yet they glistened with moisture he refused to let drop.

 

Doran and Oberyn stood beside the four of them, Oberyn’s face a mix of sadness and grief. Doran, better at playing the game simply stared ahead.

 

When the maester opened the door they all held their breath, waiting. When the old man smiled gently and nodded his head, and the breaths released into sighs of relief.

 

Doran and Oberyn entered the room first, as was their right. While they did that Ned kneeled and told the children that their mother would be fine, and that they could visit as soon as her brothers were done.

 

Soon enough both Martell brothers exited the room and Ned was quick to take their place. Elia was sitting, propped up on plush pillows. When the two older children ran into the outstretched arms of their mother, Ned caught her hidden wince, and was about to scold them when her eyes caught his and she shook her head.

 

He knew when to let matters drop, but he would bring it up when they were alone. Ned approached slower, quietly taking sitting in one of the plush chairs beside her bed. His gray eyes never left Elia’s face, catching every subtle movement of it.

 

As the children settled into the bed with her Elia held out her arms for their youngest, and Ned handed Arya over without complaint. Gray eyes intent.

 

Though when she seemed comfortable with all three children on the bed with her, his wife simply looked at him as if waiting for him to catch up with her thinking.

 

He didn’t understand what she meant, and only moved when her hand tugged on his, pulling him gently onto the bed with the four of them. Ned almost panicked but his brain stopped working when Elia’s lips found his. The kiss was gentle yet had a hidden fire, so much like his wife.

 

The lot of them smiled softly as Jon and Rhaenys competed for who could talk to their mother first.

 

* * *

 

There was a change between them after that fateful day. The two of them grew closer, Elia often joining Ned as he went to pray before the lone weirwood tree, still not large enough for it’s face but it would be soon enough. Ned would join Elia as she waded through the gardens with their children.

 

It didn’t really matter what the two of them did, the other was sure enough close by. The smiles they shared hinted at an unearthed passion. Their simple touches hinting at deeper feelings.

 

They were finally becoming a family.

 

* * *

 

The likelihood of Elia conceiving a child again, were nothing. The last child birth and her frailness damaging her body to the point that another child would be impossible.

 

Ned hadn’t cared, only happy that his wife was alive, and when she told him the news he had replied as such, and his words dripped with truth.

 

He always would surprise her. She had learned and, in some ways, still learned that Ned Stark wasn’t like most men she met.

 

They cared for one another, more than most married in this world could say. Not that they hadn’t had to try, but Ned Stark was a stubborn man, and when he set his mind to something, he wouldn’t rest until he accomplished his goal. She was much the same, but where as Elia was a woman of thoughts and cunning, Ned was a man of action.

 

Yet, her husband was still in ways, the shy second son of Rickard Stark, the one she had met when Ashara danced with him at Harrenhal.

 

Harrenhal, the place that started them on this path. Elia could remember when she danced with Ned there. Ashara dumping him into her lap to dance with the wild Brandon. She had felt bad for the younger man, seeing his crestfallen look before ice overtook his features. A true second son, a man who wouldn’t upset the status quo, no matter how his heart ached.

 

She had caught a glimpse of the true Ned that night, as he led her through a few simple dances, eyes never straying from her own as they made polite talk.

 

She barely remembered anything of the tourney after Rhaegar’s betrayal, but it seemed fate destined them to meet long before their marriage.

 

Now, watching her Ned, play with their three children, she wondered if maybe life would turn out after all.

 

She brought up their first meeting, and Ned admitted to thinking her more beautiful then Ashara Dayne, and that he had been surprised by her request to dance.

 

Yes, maybe life had a way of working out at times, indeed.

 

* * *

 

Ned was certain the gods were testing him as his Elia fell sick when a storm swept through Dorne.

 

He kneeled before the lone heart tree, Dorne’s only Godswood. A lone tree, but Ned knelt and prayed all the same. Prayed for the health of his wife, for his children to not lose their mother.

 

Speaking of their children they kneeled with him, even their oldest Rhaenys. Jon and Arya took after their father, taking the old god as he did. It was Rhaenys who surprised him when he walked to the farthest corner in the gardens.

 

Rhaenys was not a follower of the old gods, nor did he expect her to become one, yet she kneeled with them all the same, lips moving quietly, and Ned smiled. He gathered them all as the skies rumbled with dark clouds moving swiftly, leading them back inside the keep as the first drops of rain fell.

 

Their mother, the only one they knew was awake when they all entered the room she was resting in. Her body was weak, but her eyes held their usual intellect behind them. Ned found himself losing himself in those beautiful dark orbs.

 

Watching their half-grown children clamber into bed with their mother, reminded Ned how rare the life they led truly was. Elia had been raised to play the game, as most children outside the North were.

 

Yet their children still had their innocence. Even Rhaenys to a degree. Clinging to them as if they may lose them, and in a way that could very well happen.

 

Ned wouldn’t let anything happen without a fight, having vowed to protect their family with all his being. They were all he had in this life and it was more precious than his own life would ever be to him.

 

The maester said the fever had passed, but as always, sickness took a lot of strength out of his beloved Elia and required weeks of rest.

 

When their children were put to bed, Ned returned to Elia, and though they could not engage in the passion that was steadily building between them, he never left her bedside, hands intertwined tightly.

 

Their love clear.

 

* * *

 

Elia usually never worried for her husband, yet when he was summoned by King Robert Baratheon, she worried.

 

The Greyjoys, thinking Robert’s reign was to new, decided to try and secede from under his rule. They were wrong, and when Ned left, Elia cried as she hadn’t done before.

 

She cursed Roberts name loudly as her brothers tried to calm her. Her husband taken from her, to fight in the damn usurper’s petty battles. It was only when their children, their three beautiful children came to her that she calmed. The last rebellion had cost them all so much, and Elia was worried this one would cost her even more. Yet she would be strong before her children, if nowhere else.

 

When they asked after their father, Elia told them he was a capable warrior and would of course return to them safe and sound.

 

She found an odd comfort in the lone tree in a lone corner of the gardens, it’s white bark with it’s weeping face reminding her of her husband in many ways. It was no wonder her husband spent much time here, sitting in front of the tree, sharpening his blade. It was probably the only part of the North he had, and she wondered if he felt that same comfort when he sat there.

 

The rebellion lasted barely a year, and most of that was getting their forces together after the burning of Lannisport. When her husband appeared at the gates of the keep, she damned propriety and leaped into her returning husbands arms.

 

He didn’t let her down, catching her and spinning her there in the courtyard, a laugh bubbling from deep within his chest. A sound Elia wished she heard more often.

 

No fact mattered more than that her Ned was back where he belonged, by her side.

 

* * *

 

As much as he appreciated their hospitality, Ned wasn’t sure he trusted Elia’s brothers. They had been raised to play the game, and he wasn’t always sure they were speaking the truth. He tried not to let his unease show, and for the most part he felt like he succeeded.

 

He loved his wife, and for that fact alone he never let his prejudice get the better of him, and for it his life was much easier. He even struck up a weird friendship with The Red Viper. Oberyn was a great warrior, not as great as Arthur Dayne had been, but a formidable man on the battlefield. Ned learned a little from him, though their fighting styles were very different, Oberyn favoring the spear to Ned’s preference of swords.

 

Though Ned was certain Oberyn never forgave him for out drinking him.

 

That thought was prevalent in Ned’s mind as Oberyn repeatedly beat him in their spars, teasing him mercilessly during them. Ned struggled to maintain his calm visage as Oberyn forced him to yield once more.

 

The only silver lining to their weekly training was the attention Elia paid to his bruised body on those nights.

 

Doran on the other hand, unnerved Ned. The older man’s eyes always full of hidden words, and his speech full of double meaning. A product of playing the game, he was certain.

 

Dorne like the North was somewhat separated from the game played mainly in King’s Landing, something Ned was thankful for. Yet that did not mean it wasn’t played, far from it. Dorne was still a major player, even though it was far from the capital.

 

Ned would be grateful if he never had to play it again.

 

* * *

 

Ned and Elia indeed had a thing not often found in Westeros. Love had grown between them, even if their circumstances were unfavorable for such emotions and feelings.

 

The hair they had had mostly turned gray, and their children were mostly grown. Though no true blood lied between their oldest and the had no real grounds to object, Ned and Elia saw their children’s eyes drifting toward each other. Rhaenys and Jon looked at one another no longer as siblings, but as Ned and Elia now looked at one another. Ned had wanted to separate them immediately, though Elia had convinced him, with her womanly wiles that he should leave them be for the time being.

 

Arya, thankfully, showed no signs of caring for any man or woman romantically, her true passion laying with tales of knights of old. Ned had relented under the combined assaults of his youngest daughter and his wife and gotten her a sword instructor. He had never seen Arya as happy as that day and he knew he had made the right choice.

 

* * *

 

The children of Ned Stark and Elia Martell were grown and starting families of their own. Jon and Rhaenys having married in secret, were expecting their first child together, and Arya had become a knight as she always wished.

 

Elia had passed a year after their youngest was knighted, body failing to fight off one last bout of sickness. A harsh storm swept into Dorne as the quiet wolf mourned.

 

Barely a year after Lady Elia’s passing her husband, Ned, passed as well and snow fell across Westeros in mourning. Ned had become a man from which sadness permeated after the death of his wife, only their children and their grandchildren bringing him any joy. Yet the heart wants what the heart wants, and his heart has been broken and without for far to long, and it finally stop beating.

 

No one saw the ghostly images of a dark-haired beauty greet the somber faced Northerner, as they faded from view great smiles on their faces. They left the Earth with the howling of the winter wind.

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Well here’s something I’m sure you didn’t expect. I know this because I didn’t think I would do it either.  
> In this chapter, we will look at a moment at the Tourney of Harrenhall briefly mentioned in the first chapter. The very first meeting between Ned and Elia.  
> Let’s see how it goes.  
> I have no editor, so all mistakes are mine.  
> Disclaimer: I do not own GoT/ASOIF (Game of Thrones/A Song Of Ice and Fire) or any of its characters, I’m just writing my story in their world.

* * *

The tourney was in full swing as the days before the joust were closing. It was the final night before the jousts and all were in high spirits as they drank and feasted to their hearts content. All except one lone young man, a second son of the North. He sat deep in the shadows of the wild things around him, his solemn face frowning into his cup of mead.

 

His face was not so stuck in its current state, not as Stannis Baratheon’s had been, the one time she had seen the young man. No, his face was just as serious as the winds of winter but when his somber gaze turned toward his companions there was a liveliness to his eyes that was hard to miss. Yet she figured not many had seen it so close, at least not any who would care to notice.

 

She, if she was truly honest, would not have given it a second thought had she not just seen him scorned at the first chance by her friend Ashara. The Wild Wolf of Winterfell, Brandon Stark had approached them, asking for Lady Ashara to dance with his younger, and shy, brother Eddard. Elia had noticed the way Ashara’s eyes had lingered on the heir of Winterfell and when she accepted the invitation she felt sorry for the shy second son. His eyes, so serious had a light to them when Ashara had asked him to dance, and just as quick as the light came it disappeared when Ashara dumped him on the sidelines to dance with Brandon Stark.

 

Eddard Stark was a true second son, and though his eyes spoke of hurt for a moment it was replaced with his seemingly natural visage of solemn. Elia knew all too well the hurt of rejection, and her heart ached for the boy, and that was how she found herself approaching him and asking him for a dance. She felt many eyes on them as he seemed to flounder out a response. She merely raised an eyebrow and waited, he was in control of the situation and she wanted him to know it, and so she waited. It seems his well-known honor won, and he accepted her hand, though she noticed, easily, that his eyes did not lighten as they did when Ashara had asked. She supposed he was expecting the same from her yet still he accepted dutifully.

 

She would be surprised when he didn’t step on her toes not once, in fact the son of the North moved with a grace that could only come from wielding a weapon for long hours. His eyes, that she had watched had not lightened and she almost let her mask fall too scowl at the man. She knew without a doubt he would not appreciate her words of comfort. Yet when the song ended, and she asked quietly if he would grant her another dance, he quickly, too quickly, answered in the affirmative and it was then she saw the solemn facade crack as a light dusting of red covered the man’s stubbled face.

 

 The young man, for he truly was no boy now that her hands were splayed on his chest, never once stepped on her toes. His eyes never once strayed from hers as the talk in soft tones as the spun in wide circles during the songs. Soon two dances turned to three and three to four, and before the pair knew it they had danced for over an hour and they only stopped when Ned’s younger brother had approached, asking for help with getting a drunk Brandon and Robert to their rooms. The pair parted, and Elia knew she would not likely see Ned Stark again after the tourney.

 

* * *

 

When Ashara Dayne, the woman many claimed to be the most beautiful maiden in all of the world, asked him for a dance Ned couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face, and he accepted gladly. When Brandon laughed he knew he would need to thank his brother later tonight.

 

Ashara was graceful, so graceful she made his trained warriors grace seem like a buffoon. Yet, as his shyness came back in full force, Ned noticed Ashara kept glancing away and when they spun he knew what she looked at. She was looking at what everyone looked over him for, he just wasn’t sure if it was Brandon or Robert this time as both were there.

 

Still, Ned did what was polite and danced through the song without a single misstep, but when the song ended and Ashara ended their dance, Ned couldn’t help the frown that appeared on his face, before he shoved it away and he was sure he looked as everyone teased him for. To damn solemn.

 

Still it seemed the gods had not decided his night was finished, for a small hand tapped his shoulder while a rich voice asked if he would like to dance. When Ned turned he saw a woman’s who beauty astounded him. Olive skin, hair so black it seemed to be endless, and big dark eyes that reminded Ned of honey. She was beautiful, and she was Princess Elia Martell as well. When he stared at her, she only responded with an exquisite eyebrow raised as if waiting for his response. She didn’t clarify, and he knew she was speaking to him, so he gathered what was left of his courage and nodded his ascent.

 

Where Ashara was so graceful she outclassed anyone, he had ever danced with, Elia Martell danced with a grace that matched his own, she was not trying to capture the attention of another man, no her eyes remained on his and his on hers. She was beautiful and when she asked for another dance as he thought of her beauty, he was certain he turned red in the face as he answered in the affirmative.

 

They talked as they danced, and Ned found himself loosening up the longer they danced and even laughed at her jokes while her eyes crinkled with laughter at his. Still, two danced turned to three then three to four, and soon they had danced for so long he couldn’t keep track of them all. He was too wrapped up in the beauty of Elia’s soul.

 

Their moment was broken when Benjen came and asked for help getting Brandon and Robert back to their rooms. Ned big Elia a quiet good night, kissing her hand with his face feeling hot. As he half drug Brandon and Robert and half led them, he put his thought of his crush on Elia in the back of his mind. Still his dreams were filled with a soft voice and warm dark honey brown eyes.

 

Nothing would come of it, even if he wasn’t as bound to honor and Elia wasn’t the wife of the Crown Prince. It would never come to pass

 

* * *

 

Yet all the world changed when a crown of roses was laid in the lap of Lyanna Stark.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Well there it is, hope you enjoyed it! Please review, constructive criticisms are also welcomed as are just general comments. As usual, thank y’all for reading.
> 
> Well there is the first ever Chapter 2 of a NSDB story! Please let me know what you thought of it, and if you liked it please tell me and we may see this for other stories as well, as long as I could make it believable!
> 
> I know I said I was straying from NSDB for the time being, and for the most part it’s true, I am not focusing on it nearly as heavily as I have been, but I was rereading “Winter In Dorne” and stumbled across a throwaway line that got me thinking. Thus, this little thing was born of it. I truly hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> NSDB For Life!

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Well there it is, hope you enjoyed it! Please review, constructive criticisms are also welcomed as are just general comments. As usual, thank y’all for reading.
> 
> When I’m doing research on these female characters, I notice something in common. They’re all dead. Not only are they dead but nothing is really known about them, yet here I am trying to piece together a story using them.
> 
> I hope I did Elia justice, as I have stated before, I don’t have a lot of experience with GoT/ASOIF and don’t really plan on changing that, though I will continue writing these stories.


End file.
